Returning The Favor
by Thepopcornpup
Summary: "Crutchie knew exactly what he was doing that night. Jack had saved Crutchie's life a year ago, and Crutchie returned the favor." (One-Shot)


**Author's Note: Hey there! It's been a little while! I hope you're all well!**

 **While I've got you all here, I wanted to let you know that I've begun a sequel for Kelly, J! I just couldn't let that story go. Anyway, I was wondering what you'd like to see in that sequel?**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story! Thank you so much for reading! As always, reviews are highly appreciated!**

 **P.S. Trigger Warning: suicidal thoughts**

* * *

"You know, you ain't gonna get any food by just starin' at it."

A boy with messy blonde hair sticking out in every direction from underneath his knit cap turned around to face Jack. He'd been clinging onto the sill of a window to a bakery like his life depended on it, looking at the food inside longingly. "Hm?"

"You gotta actually go inside to get the food," Jack smirked.

The boy looked down at his feet sheepishly. "Oh, yeah, I-I know. I ain't got any money."

"Neither do I, Crutchie," Jack replied.

The boy frowned. "That ain't my name."

"You can't expect me to know your name if I'se known ya for 2 seconds, huh?" Jack chuckled. "Now, come on, you look real hungry."

"You said you don't got money," The boy's face filled with skepticism. "We can't get food."

"Good thing I already got food, huh?" Jack grinned and pulled a roll out of his pocket.

The boy's eyes lit up. He was shaking, though Jack wasn't sure if it was from excitement or his lack of nourishment. "C-can I?"

"Well, I didn't get it out for me," Jack smiled and tossed the boy the bread.

He caught it and immediately bit into it, relief washing over his small frame. His clothes hung off his body loosely, making Jack wonder how long it had been since this kid actually fit in them.

"When's the last time you got food like this, eh?" Jack questioned, sitting down in front of the bakery

The boy shrugged vaguely, still devouring the bread. When he finished, he leaned his crutch on the side of the building and carefully sat down next to Jack. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Of course," Jack replied. "You'se skin and bones."

"Well, I mean, I had an apple a few days ago," The boy said. "I ain't doin' that bad."

"Geez," Jack shook his head. "Well, I know how to get ya food."

"You stole it, huh?"

Jack glanced at the kid. "Well, yeah."

"Dunno how to do that." The boy said. "Dunno if I could." He tapped his left leg, which was twisted at an angle that looked incredibly uncomfortable and definitely not natural.

"My pa taught me how," Jack sighed. "Ma never liked it, but we was starving, like you."

"I ain't starvin'," The boy argued half-heartedly. "Well, maybe I was."

"I can always get you food, kid," Jack assured him.

"I don't want handouts or nothin'!" The boy frowned. "I can take care of myself."

"You gotta eat to survive," Jack replied. Before the boy could argue further, he stuck out his hand and said, "Name's Jack."

The boy took his hand. "You can call me Crutchie."

Jack smirked. "Thought you didn't like that?"

Crutchie shrugged and smirked back. "It grew on me."

* * *

Jack shivered and wrapped his thin jacket tighter around him. All that was on his mind was the Lodging House, he had to get back to the Lodging House. Lodging House, Lodging House, Lodg-

Crutchie.

Jack backtracked, and sure enough, the small kid he'd met staring in a bakery window was huddled in a snow-covered alley a few weeks before, looking half-alive.

"Oh my god," Jack breathed, running into the alley. "Crutchie?"

The younger boy opened his eyes blearily. "Mm?"

"Oh god, what the hell happened to ya?" Jack crouched down next to him.

Crutchie shrugged and coughed violently. "Think I'se sick."

"You'se clearly sick," Jack shook his head. "Crutch, I'm so sorry. I was busted by the bulls for stealing the day after we met and- you know, never mind. I got someplace we can go."

With that, he scooped up the younger boy and the crutch lying next to him, doubting he could walk on his own at this point. He was appalled out how light he was, but brushed it off and started running.

"Don't need no one carryin' me," Crutchie mumbled vaguely.

Jack shushed him. "Yes, you do, you prideful little…" He trailed off, forgetting where he was going with that.

"Where we goin'?" Crutchie questioned, glancing up at Jack with glassy eyes.

"Home."

* * *

Something wasn't right.

Crutchie could sense it almost the second he stepped onto the roof. He observed Jack, who did not have the confident, cocky air he always wore as he stood on the edge of the rooftop, far too close for Crutchie's liking. He could even see Jack's toes hanging off the ledge.

This definitely wasn't right.

"Jack?" Crutchie asked softly, barely above a whisper.

Jack jumped as if Crutchie had shouted. "Wha-what are you doin' here?"

"I ain't seen ya all day," Crutchie replied quietly, taking a tentative step towards his brother. "Just checkin' on you."

Jack turned to face Crutchie, not moving from his spot on the edge. "I'm-I'm just fine, Crutch, thanks."

"Maybe you wanna come downstairs?" Crutchie suggested, trying to make his tone as light as possible. "It's awful snowy up here; it's warm inside."

Jack shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I like it up here."

"I know ya do," Crutchie stepped forward again. "But, you'se gonna catch cold out here."

Jack's voice was shaking. "You should get in, Crutchie. You get sick easily. I don't want you gettin' hurt."

"We're playin' poker downstairs," Crutchie forced a slight smirk onto his face. "Race has won the last two rounds, an' his ego is swellin' up a mighty lot. You oughta come with me and show him who's really got the best poker face in Manhattan."

Jack made a noise that almost resembled a chuckle. "That's a nice offer, Crutch, but really, I'm fine up here."

Crutchie nodded, thinking quickly, and walked briskly forward until he was right next to Jack. Jack glanced at him, clearly unsure what to say.

"You know, my hair is gettin' awful long," Crutchie mused, pretending not to notice the look Jack gave him. "I oughta get it cut soon. Of course, the barber is pricey. Do you know how to cut hair?"

Jack shrugged, tapping his foot anxiously."I, uh, I cut my own hair a few times."

"Oh, I tried that," Crutchie grinned. "It was while you was away. I cut it, and it looked god-awful. Ask anyone. 'Cept Specs, he was polite about it."

"That's 'cause Specs made the same mistake. I'm the one who fixed it for him." Jack mumbled.

"Ah, Romeo was tellin' me that!" Crutchie laughed. "I didn't believe him, though; I thought he was just tryin' to embarrass Specs."

Jack shook his head. "Nah, it, uh, it happened."

The two stood there in silence for a bit, Crutchie silently observing Jack. The older boy's toes were no longer hanging off the edge, but he was still incredibly close. Crutchie resisted the urge to shake his head as he wondered what the hell Snyder had done to Jack on the boy's third visit to the Refuge.

"I'se missed your stories about Santa Fe," Crutchie blurted. "Can ya tell me another one?"

Jack gave Crutchie a sideways glance. "Your lips are turning blue. Go inside."

"I want you to tell me a Santa Fe story, though," Crutchie retorted, shivering.

"But, ya need to get inside," Jack frowned.

"I ain't goin' in 'til ya tell me a Santa Fe story," Crutchie put his hand on his hip, pouting like the child people often perceived him to be.

Jack crossed his arms. "You'se more mature than this."

"I ain't gotten to hear about Santa Fe in a month," Crutchie frowned.

"What if I take you inside an' tell ya a story, huh?" Jack sighed. "How's about that?"

Crutchie took Jack's hand and began leading the way inside. "Thank you, Mr. Kelly."

* * *

Jack woke up with his head resting on Crutchie's shoulder, both of them lying in Crutchie's bunk. He blinked a few times, trying to recall just how he'd gotten there. He knew that the night before he'd not a single intention of returning downstairs.

But, Crutchie brought him back.

Jack's sleep-filled mind slowly recalled how Crutchie had indignantly brought him downstairs to spin tales of Santa Fe, and how he kept him talking until he'd fallen asleep on Crutchie's shoulder.

Crutchie knew exactly what he was doing that night. Jack had saved Crutchie's life a year ago, and Crutchie returned the favor.

Jack glanced at the young boy sleeping on his shoulder. He'd always known that Crutchie knew more than he let on.

For the first time since Snyder had hammered into Jack's head just how worthless he was, Jack almost smiled.

"Hey, Crutch?" Jack squeezed his brother's hand, who held onto his in his sleep.

"Mm?" Crutchie squeezed Jack's hand in return in a weak way that told Jack he was mostly still asleep.

"How late did you stay up last night?"

"Watched you for few hours," Crutchie's words ran together sluggishly, glancing at Jack with not even half-open eyes. "Made sure you'se safe. Scared me."

Jack squeezed Crutchie's hand again, feeling tears well up behind his eyes. "Thanks."

"Mhm." Crutchie closed his eyes again, now resting his head on Jack's shoulder.

"Hey, Crutch?"

"Mm?"

"Can-can you come up to the roof with me from now on?" Jack asked. "Make sure I don't do anything stupid?"

"O' course." Crutchie smiled drowsily, squeezing Jack's hand back, firmer this time.

"I love you, Crutchie."

"Love you too, Jack."


End file.
